


After the Fall

by NoOtherSyde



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:14:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27709594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoOtherSyde/pseuds/NoOtherSyde
Summary: Will and Hannibal survive their fall from the cliff and escape to Cuba. Whilst Hannibal is ready to embrace domestic bliss, Will has a few reservations.Alone together, they get a chance to explore the true nature of their relationship.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 9
Kudos: 130





	1. Chapter 1

Will woke up in a bathroom he didn’t recognise. As he shifted his weight, he became aware he was handcuffed to an exposed pipe. He briefly tried to pull himself free, but the pipe was sturdy and his limbs felt weak. The air smelt faintly acidic - bleach perhaps? He could smell salt too, like he was near the ocean. The humidity clung to his skin despite the cool bathroom tiling. He certainly wasn’t in Baltimore anymore.

He shuffled to sit up, shifting his hands up the pipe and making a painful grating sound. As he became more aware of his surroundings, he observed he wasn’t wearing his own clothes. Instead, he was clad in a green linen shirt and smart chinos. He didn’t understand how, but it had to be.

“Hannibal?”, Will called. His voice croaky and dry. He heard the sound of steps towards him. They were slightly uneven, whoever was walking towards him was limping.

The door opened and he was met with Hannibal smiling broadly. The other man’s smile caught him off guard. He couldn’t help but smile too.

“Hello Will, how are you feeling?”, Hannibal asked.

“Like I’ve made a pact with the devil”, Will replied. His mind drifted back to being in Hannibal’s embrace, then dragging them both off the cliffside. They should have drowned.

Hannibal smiled again, this time less enthusiastic than the first; with his eyes appearing distant, as opposed to engaged. “It seems more likely we had a guardian angel watching over us”, Hannibal retorted.

Will scoffed.

Hannibal squatted down to be level with Will. His face inches from the other man’s. “Are you going to try and hurt me again Will?”, Hannibal asked. All sense of a smile was gone from his face. His eyes were focused on Will’s.

“Are _you_ going to try and hurt me?”, Will responded.

Hannibal stood up and looked away, frustrated.

“No… I’m not”.

“You’ve killed people who were rude to you Hannibal, I wouldn’t be surprised if you wanted to hurt me for what I did”.

Hannibal paused for a moment and paced a few steps around the bathroom to organise his thoughts.

“If you had a dog Will, who hurt you because he was scared, because he’d been abused before, what would you do?”.

“I’m not a dog”, Will said quietly, his words tinged with bitterness and frustration.

Hannibal visibly forced himself to relax. Will could see the control that went into his next statement. “Humour me… Please?”.

“Please”, wasn’t a word Will had heard Hannibal use much.

Will sighed. “I would take extra care of him. Make sure he felt safe, that he could trust me. Show him that I wouldn’t let anyone hurt him. Might sneak him a few treats too”.

“I intend to take care of you Will - if you will let me”, said Hannibal. There didn’t seem to be any emotion behind Hannibal’s words - they were just a statement of fact. A fact which Will felt he didn’t have any say in.

Hannibal continued however, “I’m going to ask you again, are you going to try and hurt me?”.

Will looked at the ground. “I don’t think so”.

“It’s a simple question. Where is your uncertainty coming from?”.

“You’re an endless source of uncertainty for me. Before I met you, I knew myself… I knew what I wanted. I knew what was right and wrong”.

“And now?”, Hannibal asked, almost innocently.

Will sighed and met Hannibal’s eyes. “All of me is unravelling. Intertwining with you”. Hannibal smiled, prompting a flicker of anger to rise in Will. It dissipated however, as quickly as it came. He could pretend to himself that this was something that Hannibal alone wanted, and whilst the other man had intended for it to happen, Will wanted it just the same.

It was almost as if Will didn’t need to speak - Hannibal could read his thoughts. He met Will’s eyes and nodded, taking the key from around his neck and undoing the handcuffs. He offered Will a hand to stand up - a gesture reminiscent of their actions on the bluff. Will’s legs could barely hold his weight.

“Would you join me for breakfast?”, Hannibal asked.

Will nodded, smiling. They hadn’t done this for a long time.

“Don’t think you’re going to win my favour with a sausage though”, Will teased.

Hannibal raised his eyebrows slightly, saying nothing.

****************************************************************************************************************

The pair began to walk into the kitchen, with Will gripping Hannibal tightly for support. He felt exhausted and weak, with his injuries from the fight with Dolarhyde complaining bitterly.

“What time is… actually what day is it… and… where are we?”, Will asked. 

Hannibal helped Will into a chair, then continued to the other side of the kitchen-dining room.

In no rush to respond, Hannibal turned on the hob, put a pan over the ring, and slid some butter into it. “It’s almost nine, it’s Thursday, and we’re in Cienfuegos” said Hannibal, his eyes not leaving the eggs he was now beating.

“Where did I lose the 6 days to?” Will asked, searching and failing to find memory of that time.

“It’s not important. We’re here now” Hannibal responded, continuing to focus on cooking.

“Hannibal…” Will growled. Hannibal finally met Will’s gaze.

“You were unconscious when I got you out of the water. It seemed easier to keep you that way until we got here”.

Wills eyes narrowed. “When did we get here?”

“Tuesday”

“And why didn’t you wake me up then?”

“I wanted everything to be ready for you” Hannibal’s eyes were unblinking.

Will laughed cruelly. Will could see Hannibal contract as he turned away towards the kitchen counter, the hurt making his shoulders cramp together and his head hang. In this moment, Will didn’t care.

“Whose house is this?” Will asked.

“One of my old professors’. He came to live here after after an affair he was having with a student became very public”.

“Are we having him for breakfast?” Will asked bitterly, as he watched Hannibal lay strips of meat into a second frying pan.

“No. He had very late stage cancer”.

Will didn’t want to ask how Hannibal knew.

Will watched as Hannibal tended to the food and set to making some coffee. Some of his happiest memories of Baltimore were sat in Hannibal’s kitchen watching him cook. The other man’s focus was enchanting. The precision with which he approached even the simplest tasks drew Will’s attention. Often, they would do this in comfortable silence; Hannibal cooking, Will physically present, but his mind elsewhere. The same was happening now.

Images of the fight at Hannibal’s house flooded Will’s mind. In particular, the sequence of Hannibal tearing a chunk from Dolarhyde’s neck. He was majestic, like a lion tearing into an antelope. After Dolarhyde had been slain, Hannibal had held him so close, rather he had made Hannibal hold him close - drowning himself in their intimacy. No moment with Molly had been like that. He felt happy and safe with her, but in two years of marriage, he had never been overcome with the same wave of emotions that Hannibal’s embrace brought. Will had spent years trying to suppress the ache that he felt in Hannibal’s absence, but it had never truly worked.

Hannibal brought two plates of slowly scrambled eggs with bacon and what looked like freshly made bread to the table, knocking Will back into the present.

“Thank you for breakfast”, Will said with an apologetic smile.

“My pleasure”, responded Hannibal, returning to the kitchen to collect the cafetière and two cups. “Where did I lose you to?”.

Will chose not to answer his question, perhaps a little embarrassed by the point in his train of thought where Hannibal had interrupted him.

“Shall we talk coffee cups and time?”, Will asked - the comedy of his statement discordant from the melancholy tone with which he said it. He picked up an empty mug by its delicate handle and began twisting it back and forth.

“Is this a coming together or a falling apart?”, Hannibal asked in return.

“You’ve broken apart another family for me”, Will said quietly.

Hannibal paused, taking a sip from his own cup of coffee. “Can you forgive me?”, his voice a little more than a whisper.

“Not yet”, Will responded “but I do understand”.

Hannibal nodded, “thank you”.

They ate in silence for a while until Hannibal asked, “had you always planned to kill me?”.

Will put down his fork. “Yes and no. I never intended for just you to die. It was either both of us or neither. Life and death ran as parallel trains of thought in my mind. Going over the cliff made both possible and the paths have returned us to here”.

“Then it is an unlikely coming together” Hannibal responded. 

“I suppose it is”, Will said faintly. 

Silence resumed until both had finished their food. Hannibal reached across the table and wrapped his hand around Will’s which was wresting on his mug handle. “I meant what I said earlier”, Hannibal said, his tone serious but warm. “I intend to look after you, if you will let me. Fate and circumstance have returned us to this point, and I want to remain part of your life”.

Will smiled sadly and extricated his hand from Hannibal’s.

He rubbed his eyes as he tried to find words for what he was feeling.

Hannibal withdrew his hand from the table. Suddenly, the space between them seemed vast and the silence suffocating.

Eventually Hannibal started “You don’t need to find an answer for me now…”.

But Will began too. “I know myself best when I’m with you”. Hannibal indicated for him to continue.

Will did. “Who I am when I’m with you terrifies me. More than any murder I’ve seen. I can’t get it out of my head because it is mine. It’s not just the killing, it’s the desire to do so. I… I… want to tear off my skin, exorcise it from my mind…”

Will paused. Hannibal sat quietly, creating space for Will to fill.

“But I see myself. I see myself for what I am… what I am capable of. And I’m seen by you”.

“You see me too”, Hannibal said quietly. “It’s a novel experience for both of us”.

"I don’t want to be without you again”, Will said gently. “I couldn’t imagine what would’ve happened if only I had survived that evening”.

Hannibal shrugged “You would’ve made do - lived out a polite existence”. The final two words said sarcastically.

“You make it sound so terrible” Will laughed, lightening the tone.

“Polite people rarely make history Will”

“I have no desire to be remembered” Will retorted. “Anyway, I’ve seen what you do to people you find impolite”.

Hannibal laughed gently. The two men sat smiling at each other, the tension momentarily dissipated.

“I suppose my answer is yes”, Will said softly. “I would like you to be a part of my life”.

Emboldened, Hannibal grasped one of Will’s hands. He stretched out Will’s fingers, his own tracing lightly over Will’s palm. The tenderness of the gesture took Will back.

“I need something from you though” Will said, meeting Hannibal’s gaze. Hannibal nodded, encouraging him to go on. “I need you to be honest with me. No more lies, no secrets, no coercion…please”, Will murmured - although as Hannibal’s fingers continued to circle around his palm, he was quickly forgetting the request he had made.

“I will promise you my best efforts Will”.

“I suppose that’s good enough for now”, Will murmured. His mind was elsewhere as Hannibal’s fingers continued to stroke his hand and wrist - as if tracing his veins.

“Excellent!” Hannibal responded “then I’ve got something to show you”.

Still holding his hand, Hannibal led Will through a door at the back of the kitchen. It led to a spiral staircase down the side of the building. Will took the steps slowly, his legs still shaky. Hannibal set to unlocking the heavy wooden door on the outside of the building. It opened into a garage, but instead of a car, there stood a small fishing boat.

“I was hoping you might be able to fix it. It doesn’t look like it’s been used for a good few years”, Hannibal said.

Will walked the perimeter of the boat. It was antiquated but mostly functional. Alongside the sail, there was a small outboard motor that looked like it could do with some work. The body looked structurally sound, although there were some holes that needed repairing. Will grasped the bow and pressed down firmly - the boat creaked pleasantly in response. Hannibal meanwhile, was fascinated by Will’s movements. His eyes followed the other man around the room, a small smile growing on his lips.

“It’s not in bad shape”, Will said “I think it might be a few weeks before we can take her out on the water. How near to the ocean are we?”.

“You can see for yourself”, Hannibal replied, extending his hand to Will once again. Will took it without hesitation. Upon doing so, he noticed how warm and encompassing Hannibal’s grasp had been, and how cold his own hand had become since he had let go. He wanted that heat back.

Hannibal led him back outside and they walked round to the front of the house. Hannibal pointed North, then turned to stand behind Will, moving his hand to the other man’s shoulder to turn his body to face the right direction.

A dash of blue was visible between the houses. It couldn’t be more than two hundred metres away. There was no way that Will would’ve missed it, rendering Hannibal’s touch unnecessary but not unwelcome. He could feel Hannibal’s breath, warm against his skin.

Will lingered for a moment - Hannibal’s touch had returned him to the cliff edge. He felt an urge to turn and once again bury his head in Hannibal’s shoulder, shut out the rest of the world. Yet at the same time, he felt the flicker of distrust rise within him. Hannibal understood how to play people. Touch was a key part of building trust in relationships and no doubt a tool which Hannibal was mastered in using. Will shifted uncomfortably.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?”, Hannibal asked.

Will almost groaned. He felt like he might as well have said his thoughts aloud. He shook his head pathetically, not meeting Hannibal’s eyes.

“You asked for honesty from me Will, can I ask the same from you?’.

Will turned round, not realising how close he would be to Hannibal. He looked up slightly into the other man’s eyes, trying to ascertain Hannibal’s motivations. Hannibal’s pupils were dilated, his eyes wide and slightly sad.

“Honesty is a luxury of the certain”, Will said, not breaking Hannibal’s gaze.

Hannibal nodded “then can I provide you some certainty?”, he asked.

“Can you?”.

“I hope so. I would lay my life down for you”.

“No greater love hath man”, Will murmured, a little sarcastically.

“Will”, said Hannibal angrily. He paused for a moment then whispered, “please” - his eyes imploring Will to listen to his sincerity.

“Forgive me if I struggle to believe your motivations are innocent”.

“My motivations are not innocent Will, I know what I want”, Hannibal said forcefully, his hand moving to Will’s waist, and gripping him with some force.

“Have you thought about what I want?”, Will snarled, “or do your own desires blind you to that?”.

“You want me and what I give you, but you castigate yourself for it”.

Hannibal’s words were measured but acidic. His hand gripped tighter onto Will’s side. Will knew Hannibal’s assessment was true. He was starting to feel weak again, unsure if he would still be standing if Hannibal’s grip wasn’t keeping him upright. He wondered how many more times they would have this conversation.

“Okay… okay”, said Will - extricating himself from Hannibal’s hold.

He watched Hannibal swallow, nervous for what Will might say next.

“I’m going to need some time Hannibal”, Will said “that’s all”.

He smiled gently, “That’s okay” Hannibal responded. His usual veneer of control seemed to be slipping away. “You can lead Will - just let me follow”.

Will nodded. He extended his hand back towards Hannibal, grasped the other man’s firmly, and led them both back inside.


	2. Whispers in the dark

Will led Hannibal back into the house. They went round to the back to allow Hannibal to lock the garage door. 

Once they reached the kitchen, Will took a seat. In the heat of their argument he had forgotten how exhausted he felt. 

“You look tired. Can I run you a bath?”, Hannibal asked. 

Will thought briefly about the last time he had had a bath. Life hadn’t really allowed for that sort of luxury over recent years. “Thank you, that would be nice”, Will responded.

Will propped his head up on his hand as he heard Hannibal walk to the bathroom. He rubbed his eyes. A moment ago, he couldn’t think for the flood of emotions trying to drown him. Now, he just felt exhaustion.

Hannibal returned. “There are towels in the bathroom for you and I’ve laid out some pyjamas on the bed”. 

“I’ve been out for days, I don't think I need anymore sleep”, replied Will, although there was little willpower behind his words. 

Hannibal raised his eyebrows “if you’re tired you should rest”, he said gently, then added “your choice of course”. 

Will smiled. Hannibal was never not polite, but it was rare that he wasn’t also in a position of authority. He was making an effort to be conscientious for Will. 

Will went into the bathroom and began to undress. He let his clothes fall to the floor at first, but then decided to fold them and lay them down on the wicker basket in the bathroom. He dreaded to imagine how much Hannibal had spent on them.

The bath smelt fantastic, a warm and rich scent much like Hannibal’s own aftershave. It was intoxicating, overwhelming his senses, but at the same time, it made Will feel at home.

When it was ready, he climbed in slowly. The water engulfed him, soothing his aching limbs. 

It wasn’t long before Will was fast asleep. 

**************************************************************************************************************************************************

Hannibal knocked gently at the door. He got no response. He called Will’s name softly, but again was met with nothing. 

For a moment, he panicked. Had Will slipped out of a window? 

He pushed the door open. No.

Will lay fast asleep in front of him. Hannibal walked forward and tested the temperature of the water. It was freezing. 

He put a hand on Will’s shoulder gently massaged his arm. 

Will awoke slowly. 

“The water’s gone cold Will. You’re frozen”, Hannibal said softly. 

Will meanwhile was more concerned about his nakedness. His embarrassment made him blush, with the faint rosy colour spreading throughout his body.

Hannibal sensed this and handed him a towel. He met Will’s eyes, making sure he didn’t glance any further down. Perhaps on another occasion he would tell Will how much he enjoyed seeing him blush, how much pleasure he derived from watching someone typically so hardened become soft just for a moment. 

“There’s no need to be embarrassed”, Hannibal started. 

Will looked more embarrassed. 

Hannibal thought about telling Will that he’d undressed him after they had resurfaced from the ocean back in the US, then reclothed him in what he was wearing earlier. But he thought better of it. Americans could be incredibly prudish.

Will chose not to respond, thanking Hannibal for the towel and stepping out of the bath. As he wrapped the towel around his waist, goosebumps began to form on his skin. 

“The bedroom is down the hall on the right. Go back to sleep there”, Hannibal instructed. 

Will considered protesting, but the thought of being warm in bed was too appealing. He wandered down the corridor to the bedroom. The room was beautiful. One wall was covered almost entirely with bookcases, the other, french windows which opened up onto a balcony. 

Hannibal had laid out a set of pyjamas on the bed. They made Will smile - he hadn’t worn pyjamas since he was a kid, opting instead for a t-shirt and boxers. He visualised Hannibal wearing them, he supposed they weren’t all that much different from a suit. 

Will changed and climbed into bed. It smelt of Hannibal, not just his aftershave, but his sweat - his skin. He didn’t have Hannibal’s sense of smell so it was only the rare moments of intimacy the pair had shared where Will had been able to fully appreciate what the other man smelt like. It was comforting.

Will closed his eyes. Drifting off in the bath had been a surprise for him. Normally, no matter how tired he was, he struggled to go to sleep. Graphic images flashed up agains the back of his eyes keeping him awake.

But now, as before, he was quickly falling asleep. His breath slowed and sleep overwhelmed him. 

Will awoke much later with the smell of whatever Hannibal was cooking reaching the bedroom. He was hungry - bar the eggs he had had for breakfast, he hadn’t (memorably) eaten for the best part of a week. 

Hannibal had laid out some more clothes on the armchair in the corner of the room. Will rolled his eyes. When Hannibal said he intended to look after him, Will hadn’t imaged that he would have a manservant. Nonetheless, he changed into them, feeling the fabric soft on his skin. 

He could see the sun was setting - the light was reaching around the blinds which covered the windows. Will stood up and wandered out onto the balcony. The view wasn’t particularly impressive, but he could see how close to the ocean they were. He resolved that so long as he had the energy, he would go tomorrow. 

As he turned to head back inside, he noticed Hannibal’s sketchbook on the table. The drawing exposed was a landscape - a view from the balcony. Will looked at the image more closely, impressed by the meticulous detail. He flicked back a couple of pages through the book, observing more sketches of the same view at different times of the day. The third page he turned brought him to a drawing of himself. 

Will recognised the position of his body as that from the bathroom, although Hannibal had omitted the background and the handcuffs. He looked like he was sleeping in the image, his body relaxed and eyes closed. It was an honest depiction, but an affectionate one. 

Will hadn’t been anyone’s muse before. Normally, the idea of being the subject of someone’s focus for hours at a time made him uncomfortable. Being a nameless face in the crowd appealed much more. However, he liked the sketch. He liked seeing how Hannibal saw him. A small part of him even felt flattered by the attention too. 

He returned the book to the page it was originally opened on and left it back on the table. 

Will made his way into the kitchen, guided by the scent. 

“Good evening”, Hannibal greeted him cheerfully. 

Will nodded in response. “Sorry for being useless company”, he mumbled. 

“I’m sure you can redeem yourself over dinner”, Hannibal said. “It’s almost ready”. He gestured to a bottle of wine open on the counter “there are glasses in the cupboard on the right”. 

Will wasn’t sure if a glass of wine was a sensible idea but it felt impolite to refuse. He noted the type of glass Hannibal was drinking from to ensure he picked the right one from the cupboard, then returned to the counter. 

“Anything I can help with?”, Will asked. 

“You can lay the table?”, Hannibal responded, his intonation making the statement into a question. 

“I think I can manage that”, Will responded, although not entirely sure that he could. “What are we eating?”. 

“You’ll want knives and forks, and some spoons to serve”, replied Hannibal, his tone warm and affectionate. 

“Thank you”, Will said, “although I think you underestimate me”. He couldn’t stop the smile growing as he said it.

“I often do”, replied Hannibal. His eyes were no longer focused on the food and he was watching Will lay the table. Although Hannibal’s gaze followed Will, his expression was slightly vacant, illustrating he was somewhere else. A small smile crept upon his lips. 

Hannibal brought both plates over to the table and set them down. Will waited for the description of what he would be eating, but Hannibal stayed quiet. 

Hannibal inspected Will, catching up with his train of thought. “Tell me what you taste”, he instructed.

Will looked at the food in front of him. They hadn’t played this game before. For, perhaps necessary reasons, Hannibal hadn’t invited speculation around the contents of his meals. 

The first mouthful he took was delicious. The meat was tender, it must have been stewing for hours. The spices warmed his mouth inscrutably.

“It’s good”, Will started. Hannibal urged him on with his eyes. 

Will took another mouthful. “Perhaps cumin, and… paprika… maybe red pepper too”, he said tentatively. 

“Good”, responded Hannibal. “What’s the meat?”, he asked with a smile. 

Will snorted. “A dangerous question to ask”, he said, raising his eyebrows. “Beef?”. 

“Good”, Hannibal said again. “You never seemed to mind what went into my food”, his eyes meeting Will’s across the table, “even when you knew”. 

“ _Who_ went into your food”, Will corrected. He smiled at Hannibal and shrugged. “Meat is meat. There’s violence however you produce it”. 

“And violence is permissible?”, Hannibal asked. 

“It’s… necessary”, responded Will. He had surprised himself with what he had said. It was Hannibal’s turn to smile. 

“Anyway”, Will continued, “it was a lot nicer than what I was cooking myself”. Hannibal’s smile broke into a laugh.

“Of that I’m sure”. 

Will smiled to himself. He had missed this - easy conversation with a friend. A friend who understood him well enough there was no need to feign normalcy. 

“How is Bedelia?”, Hannibal asked.

The question caused Will’s shoulders to tense and his brow to furrow.

“She’s been dining out on your trip to Florence”, Will replied. Hannibal could practically taste the bitterness in his voice. 

“How so?”, Hannibal responded. He was now interested in what about Bedelia was eliciting such a response from Will. 

“She’s done a lecture series titled “Swallowed by the Beast”, Will said. 

At this, Hannibal scoffed “I’m flattered”. Will’s eyes narrowed. 

Hannibal paused the conversation by taking a long sip of his wine, deciding how to further pursue his line of inquiry.

“Have you seen much of her?”, Hannibal asked. 

“I’ve seen her a few times”, Will responded. 

“In a therapeutic capacity?”

“Not really”

“What do you mean?”, Hannibal asked. 

“I’m not her patient”, Will responded, “but we were certainly not meeting socially”. 

Hannibal nodded, he wasn’t surprised they weren’t great friends. 

“Do you talk about me?” Hannibal asked smiling. Will blushed and looked down. 

“Sometimes” Will responded, slightly embarrassed. 

“You’d form a good support group” Hannibal suggested, his tone gently sarcastic. 

“Oh, Bedelia has no desire to support me” Will retorted.

Hannibal nodded and smiled. He had a growing suspicion that Will might be envious of Bedelia. 

He decided to test his theory.

“Are you jealous of her” Hannibal asked. Will squirmed. 

“No…”, Will started “No… not jealous”. He exhaled as he tried to collect his thoughts. Hannibal meanwhile sat quietly with a bemused smile. “She’s manipulative and defensive”, Will finished. 

“She’s a good therapist”, Hannibal laughed, “and a clever woman”.

Will fell silent for a moment then asked “what do you see in her?”, his words full of anger. 

Hannibal sensed the change in tone. Will didn’t want to play games. He noted this as something to investigate further another time. 

“She saw through my person suit without needing to be shown”, Hannibal said, closely watching for the minor changes in Will’s expression. “She didn’t see me like you did, but she did better than most”. 

Will nodded. “It’s nice to be seen”, he said quietly. 

“Even nicer to be seen fully and accepted”, Hannibal affirmed. He could see Will’s face relaxing. 

They ate in silence for a while before Hannibal asked, “how is your body recovering?”. 

Will shrugged. “I feel like crap, but if everything hurts, no one thing can be that bad?”, he replied. 

Hannibal reached across the table and grasped Will’s chin to tilt his face. Will twitched sharply, then softened into Hannibal’s touch. 

“Your face is healing well. I was under time pressure so the stitches were not my best work. I think it will probably still scar”. 

Will didn’t move from where Hannibal held him. 

“It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve left me with a scar”, he reminded Hannibal

“No”, Hannibal replied, “but I hope it will be the last”. 

The other man’s comment had thrown Will. He had expected retaliation, bitterness perhaps, but instead he was met with affection. 

“Me too”, Will replied - his voice little more than a whisper. 

The air was bristling as they finished dinner. Although Hannibal had released Will’s face, the intense intimacy persisted. Will could still feel where Hannibal’s warm fingers had been on his chin.

With each sip of wine, Will was beginning to feel drunker. The warm, fuzzy glow spreading through him took the edge off the tension that was building between him and Hannibal. When he was offered a whiskey after dinner, he couldn’t think of an answer other than no. 

The men retired to the sitting room, another room covered floor to ceiling with books. 

A now drunk Will wandered the length of the room, his eyes not really focusing on the covers he traced his index finger along. 

“I saw your sketchbook”, he said with an almost accusatory tone to his voice. 

“You’ve seen my drawings before”, Hannibal retorted. 

“I’ve not seen drawings of me though”, said Will with a smile. Both the alcohol and the atmosphere were making him feel bolder. He wasn’t entirely sure what reaction he hoped his provocation would elicit from Hannibal, but the other man conceded nothing. 

“I’ve sketched you several times from memory”, Hannibal stated calmly, “I didn’t imagine you’d enjoy being my muse”. 

“I didn’t imagine I’d enjoy seeing a picture of myself”, said Will, the words running away from him. 

“But you did”, Hannibal replied. It wasn’t a question, there was no inflection at the end of the phrase. A smug smile was starting to twitch at the edge of his lips.

“I did”, Will said. He cocked his head to the side and flashed Hannibal a smile. 

Hannibal raised his eyebrows and laughed genuinely. 

Will was starting to feel a little unsteady on his feet so with a book in hand, retreated to the couch. 

The words were blurring a little and he was having difficulty concentrating. Each sentence was spilling into the next.

His mind began to wander back to his earlier conversation with Hannibal. He could’ve said nothing about the sketchbook, but instead he chose to bring it up, interested to see Hannibal’s response. Something felt different tonight, but he couldn’t place a finger on what. 

His furtive glances across to the armchair where Hannibal was sat were far from discreet. Will’s attention was distracting Hannibal from what he was reading, and in turn he set to working out what was going through Will’s head. 

Even considering his current level of intoxication, Will looked happy. Relative to his normal guarded stance, he sat relaxed and open. Hannibal could see his mind was elsewhere. He hoped he would be able to see Will like this more often. 

A while passed as both men sat with their books as props to hide their contemplation. Eventually Hannibal stood up and said, “I’m going to head to bed, shall I get you some water before I go?”. 

Will paused mulling over Hannibal’s sentence construction. Most people would ask “would you like some water?”. Hannibal wasn’t most people. 

Will nodded and Hannibal left for the kitchen. 

When he returned, he handed the glass of water over to Will and said, “I’ll see you soon”. 

**************************************************************************************************************************************************

Will told himself firmly to concentrate. 

Something about joining Hannibal in bed made him feel acutely uncomfortable. 

Instances of him joining Hannibal before had typically been occasions of intense violence. He had little time for mediation in the moment, acting to defend his life or the life of another, then dealing with the consequences later. 

Now, he had time to think. He couldn’t justify his actions through the animalistic fight or flight response (which he knew was a weak defence at best anyway). He simple had to make the choice whether or not to join the other man in bed. 

It would be a quiet, mundane action, however it felt like the ultimate act of submission. It would be the end of the fighting. The end of trying to hold up the rapidly crumbling walls which separated his sense of self from that of Hannibal. It would be the beginning of the future that Hannibal had planned for them, the consummation of their relationship. 

Will exhaled slowly. Everything had become quiet. Hannibal was in bed and his own thoughts had stopped whirring. 

Will made his way to the bathroom. He was sobering up quickly. He brushed his teeth and washed his face. For the first time, he saw the stitches that Hannibal had sewn across the wound that Dolarhyde’s knife had left. They looked perfect. Typical. 

Hannibal had once again anticipated his need for pyjamas. The pair he had worn earlier were folded neatly on the wicker basket. 

Will changed slowly and tiptoed into the bedroom. 

Hannibal slept on the opposite side of the bed to where Will had been earlier. Will considered this for a moment. He had chosen to sleep on the side which smelled most like Hannibal, which meant Hannibal had chosen a different side now to allow him to be most comfortable. 

Hannibal’s breath rose and fell gently like the sea on a quiet evening. Will slipping under the covers didn’t seem to disturb him. 

Will however was starting to feel awake again. His concentration in ensuring that he didn’t wake Hannibal had left him feeling alert. 

The more he tried to relax into sleep, the more frantic his thoughts seemed to become. His mind was beginning to berate him for his decision, taunting him for the ease with which he’d joined Hannibal. He thought of Molly in the hospital. Walter, sat in the waiting room without an adult to care for him. He thought of Abigail, how much he cared for her life, yet how he now lay in bed with the man who had killed her. 

Will began to cry. His tears were soft at first, running silently into the pillow. 

But his brain would not relent. Small whimpers became big shaking sobs. His body began to tremble uncontrollably. He buried his face into the pillow in the hope that might smother some of the noise. 

Lost in the spiral of his thoughts, he didn’t hear Hannibal’s voice softly saying his name. The first sign of the other man being awake that he experienced, was a strong arm reaching across his waist and dragging him into an embrace. 

Will’s back pressed against Hannibal’s chest, their bodies curving into the shape of a crescent moon. Hannibal felt larger than life, like somehow he was able to envelop Will almost entirely. Will didn’t fight his embrace - he relaxed into it. 

“It’s okay Will, you’re going to be okay”, Hannibal whispered, his breath soft against Will’s ear.

Will continued to sob, but more gently now. The weight of Hannibal’s body was comforting. It felt as though it was dragging him down into sleep. 

As Will’s tears continued to diminish, he gradually moved himself even closer to Hannibal. Hannibal’s arm had moved from his waist to over Will’s arms, gently holding his hands together. Will breathing was beginning to quieten, his chest moving gently up and down. 

Eventually sleep overcame him. Wrapped up in Hannibal’s arms, he fell into a restful slumber. 


	3. Alone Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! This is going to be chapter 3/3 from me. My mind is buzzing with ideas at the moment and I want to start work on something more creative and ambitious. The ‘after the fall’ plot seems to have been done to death. 
> 
> I’m very appreciative of all the comments you lovely people have left and for everyone who has made it to this point! I’ve worked hard to get the characterisation and dialogue as close to what it is in the show as possible, so it’s been great to get some positive feedback on that.
> 
> Writing this has prompted me to do a lot of thinking about the last few episodes of Season 3. I’ve been trying to formulate a theory of what Will actually feels about Hannibal to underpin the events which take place within this story. My working model is that what Chiyoh says to Will in Contorno, “there are means of influence other than violence”, finally makes sense to him in Digestivo. He tried and failed to influence Hannibal with violence in Dolce, but realises that he can make Hannibal do what he wants by denying him love. Will’s design is to separate himself from Hannibal to work out how he truly feels. The incredibly beautiful scene in the Uffizi shows Will to be struggling with the distinction between himself and Hannibal, unable to delineate whose thoughts and actions are whose.
> 
> After the time apart, Will realises that he does ultimately want to be with Hannibal. I think he is still full of hurt and frustration, but Hannibal provides him with something no one else can. 
> 
> Hope that this final chapter is a fitting end for our dynamic duo!

Will was woken by the sound of the shower. 

The feeling of contentment slowly spreading through his body was new to him. He was snug, he had had a restful night’s sleep, everything was quiet. He wrapped himself more tightly in the duvet and indulged himself with some more time in bed. He was under no illusions that he would fall back to sleep, he simply wanted to preserve the quiet happiness he felt now. 

He was vaguely aware of the creak of the shower stopping and of Hannibal moving from the bathroom to the bedroom. 

“Good morning”, Hannibal greeted him. 

“Hu…hey”, Will responded. 

Hannibal had come into the room with just an olive green towel wrapped around his waist. He smoothed the wet hair that had fallen onto his face back behind his ear.

Will swallowed.

“I’m sorry if I woke you”, Hannibal said genuinely. 

“That’s okay”, Will replied with a gentle smile.

Hannibal turned towards the wardrobe and unfurled the towel. Will watched as he dried himself, the muscles throughout his arms and back flexing. In some ways, this was Hannibal at his most terrifying. It was easier to imagine Hannibal a monster than a man, yet in his nakedness in this moment, he was distinctly human. 

Once Hannibal was dressed, he sat down on the bed next to Will. Will knew what was coming. 

“Would you like to talk about what was upsetting you last night”, he asked. His face was soft and his hand close to Will’s on the bed.

Will sighed. His contentment had been very short lived. 

He bit the inside of his lip and didn’t offer and answer. 

“Okay”, said Hannibal. “I’ll start breakfast. Join me when you’re ready”, his tone gentle and affectionate. He stood up from the bed and left for the kitchen. 

Will rolled over and buried his face into the pillow. 

He played back the words Hannibal had just said to him in his head.

The decision to “join” Hannibal was not a singular act. It was a choice he had to make every day; justifying to himself being with the man who had caused so much harm and who had taken so much from him. 

Anger swelled inside him. He wanted to rail against Hannibal; listing every bit of damage the other man had done, all the reasons why he should run from the house screaming, why he should turn him over to the police. His rage grew further when he considered how gentle and affectionate Hannibal had been over the last few days. He acted as if their violent past had never happened. Who was he to perform such an erasure?

Will’s fingers grasped the pillow hard, then he twisted his wrist so that his fist could push down into the mattress. 

Whilst his arm trembled with the force, he exhaled slowly. He urged the fury from his body.

He knew his anger was misguided. He understand why Hannibal had taken so many lives, why he had brought so much violence, and caused so much hurt. For a long time, his empathy alone had allowed for this, however after the fight with Dolarhyde, his experience did too. He has meant what he had said on the cliffside, it was a beautiful act.

No, he reasoned. It was simpler to be angry at Hannibal than it was to address what his feelings for the other man meant about himself. 

His ability to understand and accept Hannibal pointed at the darker recesses of Will’s own mind which he had fought for years to suppress. For a long time, he was successful. He worked to save lives, frequently sacrificing his own mental health, but meeting Hannibal had changed all of that. 

His ‘becoming’ had made him a killer who he would’ve once hunted. It was a metamorphosis which had seen him shed his old skin and appear anew. He felt comfortable and liberated; both accepted and celebrated by Hannibal for what he now was. 

Will sighed audibly. 

The mismatch between the concerns he held about his choices and the contentment that was beginning to arise from his recent actions, brought further frustration. Like Hannibal had so pithily assessed after the massacre at Muskrat Farms, Will delighted in wickedness, then berated himself for it. 

He gripped the pillow firmly again and let out another prolonged breath. From his swirling mass of thoughts, a resolution was beginning to emerge. 

No matter how many iterations of this conversation he had had with himself over the last few weeks, his actions had consistently seen him choose Hannibal. When the moment came, he knew what he wanted to do, where his loyalties truly were. 

The life that Hannibal was drawing out for them did however mean union in both war and peace. He was to be Hannibal’s right hand man on the battlefield and his partner within their shared domestic space. 

Peace brought with it more time and cause for mediation. When Will had fought with Hannibal, it had unfolded so quickly, with his actions being instinctive and unthinking. Now, movements were slow and intentional. Actions were considered before they were taken and meanings mulled over. It was ironic really, Will mused, that cohabitation posed so many more challenges than killing together. 

Yet, the domestic setting also enabled Will to see Hannibal at his most authentic - both human and mundane. Will liked what he saw. 

Hannibal rarely wasn’t performing. Even in his home in Baltimore, the other man was always playing a role. He was the good host, the psychiatrist, the teacher. His characters were complex and well developed, but Will had eventually seen through them. 

Stripped of all of those pretences, he was now just Hannibal. He was kind and affectionate. He considered Will in his actions and was gentle with him. He was even letting Will set the pace, giving him time and space to come to terms with his feelings. 

The memory of an evening back in Baltimore returned to Will. Hannibal was sat at his desk sketching Achilles and Patroclus. Will had thought of the evening fondly many times since, but the comparison had never seemed so pertinent as it did now. In spite of Achilles’ fiery temper and god-like strength, he cared deeply for his compatriot. He wanted all the other Greeks dead so that he and Patroclus could conquer Troy alone together. Will held little doubt that Hannibal had similar desires.

Where their story departed from that of Achilles and Patroclus Will thought however, was that when he had donned Hannibal’s armour on the field of battle, they had both returned victorious. The deviation made him smile. Perhaps they were not fated to a tragic end. 

Will rolled back over, rubbed his eyes, and made his way to the shower. 

As he reached the bathroom, he could hear Hannibal plating up food. Not wanting to be any later than necessary, he raced through the shower and back into the bedroom to put some clothes on. 

He grabbed a clean shirt from the wardrobe as well as the chinos he was wearing yesterday, then joined Hannibal in the kitchen. 

Hannibal smiled broadly at him, the hint of a laugh gracing his lips. 

In his hurry, Will had grabbed one of Hannibal’s shirts. The shoulders and sleeves hung far too low and the body sagged around his small frame. That, combined with his flushed cheeks - warm from the shower and his rapid burst of activity - meant he fulfilled quite an image. 

Hannibal’s tongue traced his bottom lip, prompting the red in Will’s cheeks to darken further. 

Will self-consciously began to roll the shirt sleeves up but was met with Hannibal’s firm grasp on his forearm. 

“Don’t crease it”, Hannibal instructed, his voice warm but authoritative. Will swallowed and nodded. 

Hannibal hadn't released his arm and Will was becoming increasingly aware of the intimacy between them. Despite the fact that he was growing warmer by the second, he didn’t want to move away - frozen by both the arousal and fear which Hannibal’s touch brought. 

He was aware he was trembling when he met Hannibal’s dark eyes. They remained as placid as ever.

“Let me show you where yours are”, Hannibal stated. His voice had softened. All sense of authority in his previous statement had dissipated. Now, he just sounded helpful. 

His hand slid from Will’s forearm down into his palm. He led Will by the hand back to the bedroom and opened the wardrobe door. On the right-hand-side hung some visibly smaller shirts in various shades of blue and green. 

“Thank you”, Will murmured, his mouth dry. 

“Not at all”, Hannibal replied. “Breakfast is ready when you are”. 

He removed his hand from Will’s and turned to head back to the kitchen. 

Still shaking, Will slipped out of Hannibal’s shirt and chose one of his own from the wardrobe. 

Part of him had expected Hannibal to undress him then and there. He had felt Hannibal’s arousal in the kitchen, experienced the intimacy in his touch. It was rare that he had seen Hannibal want something and not take it. 

But then again, Hannibal had been no end of gentle with him. He was letting Will lead, letting him dictate the bounds of their relationship. He wanted Will to make decisions, to feel entirely comfortable. 

Will swallowed. If he wanted intimacy from Hannibal, he would have to be the one to ask. 

Will returned to the kitchen and Hannibal presented him with a coffee. There was a pan of Shakshuka set in the centre of the table, alongside some more of the homemade bread. 

“I’m thinking of going into town today”, said Hannibal. Will was pleased by the ease with which the other man was able to clear the air. “Would you like to come with me?”. 

Will nodded whilst swallowing a mouthful of baked eggs. Once again, Hannibal had managed to transform something very simple into something beautiful. 

“It’s a quiet place generally, but they host a market on Fridays”, Hannibal continued. “I want to get some fresh food and a few other things”. 

Will smiled. Even when on the run, Hannibal could find somewhere to hide which had a farmers market. 

***********************************************************************************

A little after breakfast, the two men set out to the market. It was a short walk inland of the house, taking them through narrow streets made up of brightly coloured buildings. 

Will was concerned about their presence drawing attention, however there seemed to be plenty of tourists about. 

Hannibal was in his element. He charmed each of the vendors he spoke to, adeptly adjusting his Spanish to the Cuban language. Will lost track of the conversations quickly, in part as his own language skills were not as competent, but mostly because he was entranced by Hannibal’s capabilities.

Hannibal spoke for a long time to man selling fresh fish while Will stood in contented silence. The same feeling of quiet happiness which had washed over him in the morning, was beginning to reappear. 

“Would you be able to take the food home?”, Hannibal asked. “I’ve a couple more things I would like to pick up”. 

Will nodded and assured him that was something he could do. He was a little sorry to see Hannibal leave his side, however he was well aware he wasn’t going to be much help in conversation. 

***********************************************************************************

After packing the food away, Will wandered to the bathroom. 

The steam from his shower had lifted and he could see himself clearly in the mirror. 

Structurally, his face was a mess. He was too thin; his cheeks were sallow and his jaw gaunt. Although the stitches Hannibal had sewn to close the wound from Dolarhyde’s knife were neat, there were still visible. He smirked to himself - he certainly looked the part for someone evading the police. 

But, in spite of the stitching and his current emaciated state, Will considered that he looked happy. The lines from where his brow was normally furrowed were fading and there was a certainly glint in his eye. 

He tried a smile at the mirror, then rolled his eyes. A day in Hannibal’s company and he was already becoming self absorbed. He smiled at the thought, more genuinely this time, then continued to stare at himself in the mirror, grinning like an idiot.

He was disturbed by engine noise outside and the sound of the garage door opening. 

He raced down the stairs to see Hannibal locking up a motorbike and putting a couple of fishing rods away behind the boat. 

“Inconspicuous”, he said jokingly to Hannibal.

“With the boat, we don’t have space for a car”, Hannibal replied, completely deadpan. 

Will grinned broadly. He was having trouble stopping himself now. 

“I was thinking we could go to the beach for lunch”, Hannibal continued. “The fisherman we spoke to this morning suggested one about 10 miles away. It will be a chance to give her a proper spin”, he said gesturing to the motorbike. 

“Please”, Will replied. 

They headed to the kitchen together to assemble a packed lunch. 

Will teased Hannibal whilst they made sandwiches, reminding the older man of a time back in Baltimore where Hannibal had forced Will to throw away a sandwich because apparently the smell of it was giving him a headache. 

“It came out of a vending machine”, Hannibal protested. 

Will smiled. “Its contents were still less dubious than some of your meals”, he retorted. 

Hannibal reached out and smacked Will lightly on the back of the head as a rebuff. 

Will was sent to the bedroom to pack a bag with some towels.

He could hear Hannibal had already gone down to the garage, so he grabbed lunch off the kitchen counter and went to join him. 

After locking the garage door, Will took his place behind Hannibal on the motorbike, wrapping his arms around the other man’s chest. Hannibal shifted uncomfortably and moved one of Will’s hands down to his hipbone. 

“Sorry”, Will said a little helplessly. So much had changed in the last week, it had slipped his mind that Dolarhyde had put a bullet into Hannibal’s side. 

As they sped away from the house, Will mused on the surreal nature of their time in Cuba so far. He adjusted his position slightly so he could rest his head on Hannibal’s shoulder blade, relaxing into the motion of the motorbike and the steady thrum of the engine. In moments of calm like this, he was used to being disturbed by intrusive thoughts. They’d come intermittently at first, but would quickly become overwhelming, removing Will from the present and dragging him down into a whirlpool of anxiety. 

But for now, nothing came. Being so close to Hannibal seemed to have a very soothing effect.

The beach they arrived at could be described as little other than beautiful; a small crescent of sand between two antiquated wooden jetties. It was empty too, with a couple of gulls as their only company. 

Will laid out the towels and they sat down together on the sand. Hannibal could see the desire in the other man’s eyes to go into the water. 

“Go and swim”, he instructed, “but be careful, your body is still healing”. 

Will took little convincing and began to strip down.

The water was cooler than Will anticipated, providing pleasant contrast from the midday sun beating down on him. His eyes were caught by the movement of small fish between his legs. He waded out a little deeper, then dipped beneath the surface. The salt water stung his eyes, but he nevertheless kept them open to chase the colourful fish darting around near the sand. 

Hannibal, whilst pretending to read, watched intently from the beach. Will wasn’t heeding his warning to be careful. He would resurface violently, gasping for breath - only to re-submerge himself a moment later. While Will’s disregard for his physical limits agitated Hannibal slightly, he marvelled in how completely absorbed and carefree Will seemed. It was a far cry from the twitchy FBI profiler he had met all those years ago. 

Eventually, and only once completely exhausted, Will reappeared from the water. He staggered up from the water, eyes bloodshot, but a broad smile plastered across his face. Hannibal couldn’t help but smile too. 

“You look happy”

“I was thinking that myself earlier” 

“It suits you”

Will smiled sheepishly and turned his eyes down to focus on the picnic lunch Hannibal had laid out. 

They ate in silence for a while, both watching the water lap calmly at the shore. 

“I owe you an apology”, Will started. 

Hannibal turned to face him, his eyes dark and imploring. 

“I’m sorry I rejected you”, Will continued. “I needed to work out how I felt when I wasn’t so tightly bound to you. I couldn’t separate my thoughts from yours… I… I….” 

The words were beginning to flood from Will’s mouth. 

“I realised I needed to hurt you. I needed to hurt you more than I ever could through violence. I knew you would try and find me otherwise, or I would try and find you” 

His breathing was becoming erratic. 

“I tried get as far away from you as possible. I tried to create a life I could’ve had had before I met you. I tried to bury myself in it. I tried to create a sense of self that wasn’t contingent on you, but it never made me happy”.

Will took several shaky breaths. 

“I realised what I wanted. What I had wanted from the moment you saw me. I can’t exist without you”. 

Hannibal, without breaking eye contact, moved the food that sat between them. 

He shifted closer to Will, then pulled the other man’s shaking form in towards his body. Will’s head rested against his shoulder, Will’s own shoulder against his chest. The water from Will’s body began to saturate his shirt.

“Shhhh”, he whispered into Will’s hair. His hand gently untangling Will’s damp curls. 

He soothed Will until he had stopped shaking, waiting until the rise and fall of his chest was once again steady. 

Then, he curled his fingers tightly into Will’s hair and lifted his head so their eyes met. His grip was firm, yet it made Will feel safe. 

“I forgive you”, Hannibal said simply. 

Will’s eyes widened with relief. 

“You know this is what I want”, Hannibal continued. “You will be majestic Will. We will be majestic together”. 

Will’s eyes moved to Hannibal’s lips. He didn’t need to speak, his face asked the question. 

Hannibal leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss onto his lips. Will trembled at first at how soft the touch was, then began to return the gesture more fervently. 

Hannibal’s lips moved to form a smile. 

“Take your time Will, we have forever”. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! 
> 
> This is my first fic on archive of our own. Any feedback, either negative and positive would be much appreciated. Hopefully will post a chapter every couple of weeks.


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